Rhonda: A Twilight Mom's Cautionary Tale
by rhonda-on-ya
Summary: Old meme is old.


Rhonda: A Twilight Moms Cautionary Tale

This is dedicated to Robert Pattinson. May God have mercy on your soul.

_ A few times I've been around that track  
So it's not just gonna happen like that  
Because I ain't no hollaback girl  
I ain't no hollaback girl_

- Gwen Stefani

* * *

Rhonda: A Twilight Moms Cautionary Tale

It was getting late, she could tell by the murmurs of a late night monologue the talk show host was reciting from the living room, but she stayed transfixed on the soft glow of the computer screen. Tonight was her weekly update post and everyone seemed to enjoy the exclusives. She silently hoped that the children had been able to take care of themselves for another night, not because she still cared for them, even just a little, but because she didn't need another mess like Steve on her hands. She smiled ruefully, and thought back to the days when Steve was the love of her life, the days before a good wireless connection and a paperback copy of Twilight became her new companions, companions that would never leave her to go work all day at a low pay IT store. Steve didn't understand, she chided herself. Steve couldn't understand why she had quit her part time job at the craft store, why she never helped out around the house anymore, or why she wouldn't comfort her children when they desperately cried out for her attention. She yearned for a world that Steve refused to be a part of, however much she tried to get him to role-play being a forever 17 year old vampire. She remembered the night he had told her that the books were poorly written and were marketed for the consumption of thirteen year old girls. That was the night she had cried herself to sleep. With the thoughts of suicide plaguing her, she confided in her new family, a tight knit group of supportive Twilight Moms for advice, and when they could not give her anything of substance, she consulted the books. The answer had been so simple! Edward told her exactly what she needed to do to and after a brief glance at Wikipedia, she cut the breaks of Steve's Volvo – no she had been mistaken, it was a '98 Ford Taurus, and she was not concerned when his future suddenly disappeared. None the less, it had gotten the job done. The investigation of Steve's alleged accident was brief and the insurance pay out was so substantial she could finally do what she had yearned so long for to do: stalk the shit out of the cast of the upcoming Twilight film. Her mother had unwittingly taken the kids for a few weeks while she could properly "grieve" the loss of her husband. It had given her enough time to break in the baby blue Tinkerbell windbreaker her dear friend TopazMom73 had sent her for Christmas and to take in the glorious perfection that was Robert Pattinson when he strode out of his trailer like the true vampire champion of her heart that he was. The next weeks passed like nothing she had ever experienced before. The cast loved her and the crew welcomed her onto the sets, even when they claimed they did not want to be bothered and that she was trespassing, she could see that it was all in jest. She knew that. Today they had played such a hilarious joke on her! A man, she figured it had to have been a crewmember in on the cast's wonderful joke, had dressed up in a police uniform and had presented her with a restraining order! She had played along like a seasoned improv actor, even when the crewmember escorted her to his "police car" and drove her away from her sweet prince, Robert, and back to the house. She would get back at those scamps! She laughed to herself quietly as she hit the "Post" button. Looking out the window afterwards, she saw that the sun was about to rise. Just like it was for Bella and Edward, this was her time, she mused. A time where she could finally be herself, that underneath the soft spoken, almost child like demeanor and voice, laid the butterscotch heart of a real Cullen vampire. She did not notice when the horizon changed from the soft orange and pink to strikingly off flashing blue and white colors. The sirens wailed and for the first time since Steve had died, she was brought to her senses. There was someone pounding at the door demanding to speak with a "Rhonda Pattinson"? It had been such a long time since she had used a last name, had she legally changed her name to show Robert her devotion? Her memory was failing her. In the corner of her eye, she saw her children, underfed and probably suffering from a severe case of dehydration, crawling out to the safety of the garage. Who was after her? Could it be the Volturi? Was she a real Cullen vampire now? Even with her powers, she knew she could not escape a group of highly trained legion of Italian vampires by herself. She knew she had only one choice. Fire. She ran to the kitchen, stumbling over a pile of discolored baby dolls, bills that had be scattered around the floor, and stepped in what looked to be the remnants of a failed attempt at making peanut butter and jelly sandwiches in the process. If she was going to be destroyed by the Volturi, she would like to do it herself before Jane could get to her. These people- these vampires- outside the door were continuing their threats to break open the door. She didn't have much time. She cranked on the gas oven, grabbed a bottle of the nearest cooking sherry and took a long swig of the vile stuff. She looked at the stereo near the kitchen table and with a manic laugh turned the volume up to eleven. If she was going to die, she would go out in style, singing along to Gwen Stefani's Hollaback Girl. She was a cool mom. This is how cool mom vampires went out. They went out with style. She hoped that like Esme, she would survive this, and that maybe Steve would be waiting for her. She lit a match from a box that she had found near the pile of baby dolls. There was a huge boom and for awhile darkness enveloped her.

* * *

_Some time later..._

Officer Monroe walked up to the Hospital check in. It was his turn to see if that psychopath that had blown up half of her house outside Portland the last week, during a child abuse investigation, was stable enough to start talking. He clipped on his nametag to his jacket and walked to the elevators. He thought back to that early morning. It was supposed to be a simple enough job, him and his partner had received word that this woman had recently lost her husband and had been following around actors of that teenage zombie, whatever it was he didn't really care, movie they were filming in the county and was neglecting her children in the process. A few of the kids' teachers had reported her to DCA when they stopped showing up to class around March. He watched as his partner went to speak with the woman, when all hell broke loose. He remembered when he saw the children crawl out of the house through the garage while the mother was screaming something about Italy and vampires. It didn't make any sense then. Now that he knew more about the case, he had less of an idea. Before entering her room, he grabbed her file. Paging through it, he saw charges for murder in the first degree, trespassing, child abuse and various restraining orders from those Hollywood types. This lady was more than batshit, but he was certain if she ever went to trial they'd put her in one of the last remaining psych wards in Oregon, the ones with the nice padded walls. Rhonda Martin-Pattinson. What a crazy bitch. He walked into the room, where he knew even though she had been horribly disfigured, she would greet him in that hazy, cheerful child like voice. He thought back to after the fire department had put the fire out, when they had found her. It had been a fucking miracle she survived, he'd give her that, she was huddled over a singed copy of some black paperback book muttering complete nonsense and clutching a bottle of cooking sherry like it was only thing keeping her alive. He asked her if she was ready to talk and with her baby voice she asked if Robert had came to see her. He told her again that he had no idea who this Robert guy was. She closed her eyes; it was her way of telling him that there would be no talking today.


End file.
